Aerial
by 9206811
Summary: You know that awkward feeling when you're stuck on an airplane sitting next to a person you swear is the most gorgeous creature on the planet? One-shot based off of my own awkward travel experiences.


You're glaring at me from across the aisle.

It's a big one, thank god for business class.

Your hair is up in a ponytail.

Silver and shiny. Totally perfect.

I thought you were a girl.

That's why I've been blushing.

Why is my face still red?

I don't quite know myself.

Please stop staring at me.

I'm having enough trouble as it is.

Eating this chicken airplane meal.

It's not that I don't like it.

I've just got to wait for it to cool down.

He's really hot.

IT. I meant IT.

IT'S really hot.

That's probably why you're looking over here.

You wanted the chicken meal didn't you?

I'm sorry I took the last tray.

The vegetarian meal doesn't look too bad though.

Like that pear.

It looks pretty edible.

It's so big and... juicy.

And...

...

It suddenly got really hot in here.

Please stop looking at me.

Oh thank god. We're landing.

False alarm.

Damn turbulence.

I thought that finally... Oh wait.

Looks like you found something else to do.

You're not paying attention to me at all.

I could take a glance in your direction and you wouldn't even notice.

So maybe I will.

Just so I know what you look like.

Incase I need to report you for being so damn...

For stalking me.

Yeah.

That's the only reason I'm looking over.

You're reading a book so you won't notice.

Hopefully.

You've even got reading glasses on.

The rectangle rimmed kind.

The kind secretaries wear when they want to be seductive.

Not that I think you're seductive.

Or that I'm feeling seduced at all.

I think.

I don't get it.

You're still reading.

You have been for at least an hour.

That's the biggest book I've ever seen.

It looks like a freaking dictionary.

For all I know, it could be a dictionary.

I don't know what you like to read.

Of course I could ask.

I could reach over and give you a tap on the shoulder.

And I'd wonder why your shirt is so soft to the touch.

You would turn to me and I'd see your wide eyes.

I'd resort to my broken english and ask you.

About the book.

You'd smile and tell me the title.

It'd be complicated and intelligent sounding, of course.

I could pull one of my trademark sheepish looks.

And maybe you'd laugh.

You would ask me my name.

And I'd forget to answer for a moment because your eyes are so intense.

Even behind those glasses.

I'd say my name and you'd say yours.

Then I'd speak in japanese, my language.

You would cock your head to the side, ponytail swinging.

I would smile and say it means "hello".

Then you'd return the greeting in your language.

That's when I'd realize you're Italian.

Exotic.

We'd be looking at each other and I'd reach out my hand.

Across the aisle.

You would take it and we'd shake.

Your fingers so delicate and fragile.

Pale against mine.

Then maybe your grip would tighten.

I'd catch your gaze.

You're pulling me across the aisle.

Towards you.

Towards your eyes and lips.

... And body.

...

Woah.

Run-away imagination.

Apparently I'm more tired than I thought I was.

But before I sleep,

Before I do anything else.

I do reach across that aisle,

That oversized business class aisle,

And touch your shoulder.

You look up and our eyes lock.

Those perfectly green eyes.

Mesmerizing.

I smile and say hello.

In english.

I'm mentally cursing myself for not going with the plan.

The book. The book.

Too late now.

You look at me for a moment before closing your eyes.

And slipping your glasses off your nose.

I feel the tips of my ears getting hot.

You look up again and narrow your eyes at me.

And then you open those soft pink lips.

The ones that have been driving me insane since I first stepped on this plane.

5 hours ago.

Anticipation.

I can't wait to hear your voice.

Sweet but bitter at the same time.

It'll be perfect.

I was...

"What the fuck do you want?"

...

... Wrong.

And that was the start of something incredible.

A relationship that would change my life.

How should I have known you were switching into my school.

Into my class.

And that you would never stop staring at me with those perfect eyes.

Even if they're stares of dislike.

I honestly couldn't care less.


End file.
